Tag: love

A family gathered around a lit Christmas tree in a cozy room
Christian living, Family, Seasonal

A Christmas Story – The Gift

blossomingheartsstudio

This post gently touches on themes of abuse. Take your time, and be kind to yourself as you read.

It was Christmas Eve in 1983. My father had left suddenly the summer before. My destitute mother molded biscuits at Hardees each morning to make enough money to pay rent and buy food to feed four, hungry children. Our run-down, shotgun house in Southern Indiana was the only housing she could afford.

Winter winds threatened to rip through the heavy plastic my mother had duck-taped over the drafty, cracked windows, but my mother’s determination had thwarted the cold, at least partly. We had no money for heat. A simple gas stove would be lit throughout the day, in intervals, so as to warm the downtown stairs to a bearable temperature, but not too much as to run up the gas bill.

My mother had written to her relatives for a place to go or for some money to help. The reply had been a scathing rebuke from one of them. “How could a pastor’s wife get a divorce. So, no, you aren’t welcome here.” My father’s child support checks never showed either. No money. No support.

We were alone.

I had become an emotional wreck, unable to go to high school, because of undiagnosed illness. Sadly, I knew Christmas would come and go with no gifts, though I held in my heart a secret hope of one gift – a boom box. I told no one. I knew my mother would not be able to afford anything, even though she tried to force smiles and decorated a tree as she had always done.

Christmas Eve had come – along with hard, cold darkness which filled the night. My mom gathered my siblings and wrapped them in the warmest clothing we had. She looked back to offer me one last chance to join them, but I waved them on, as they hurried out the door. The firemen in the neighborhood were throwing a Christmas party for all the children on the block, and so my mother had taken my siblings to celebrate.

A little while later, my family hustled back in the house, with unwrapped gifts shoved under their arms and grins from ear to ear. “For you,” my mother said, as she handed me a rectangular, wrapped box. As I took it, the weight caught me off guard. Hurriedly, I unwrapped it, to uncover just what I had wished for – a new, shining (at least that’s how I remember it) boom box!

How did anyone know?

Tears welled in my eyes, as the realization hit me. In the middle of our dire circumstances, God loved me and cared for that simple heart’s desire.

For years, I’ve held that memory close to my heart, as I’ve seen God’s loving faithfulness again and again and again throughout my life.

As you face this Christmas, maybe you are facing loses of family or friendships. We are. May you are processing through unmet expectations or strained relationships. We are too. Maybe you have survived horrific abuse at this time of the year. Me too. I’m a childhood survivor of just about every abuse imaginable. I get the depression and trauma holidays can bring. Maybe there is sickness or disease or even death that has afflicted you or your loved ones this year. We have walked that road as well, especially in recent years.

Christ didn’t come as a King to fix the world. He didn’t come to make our worlds tidy and clean and neat. He didn’t come to fill our trees with presents, though sometimes He chooses to give us that special present to show us how much He cares.

He came to give.

To give Himself.

Lowly. Humbly. Freely.

And He gave us all He had – everything. Vulnerably. Tenderly. Knowing that He would lay down His very life for the sake of love, so that we can live in and through Him forever.

He came to comfort those who are mourning – to give beauty for ashes, a crown of glory, instead of Spirit of despair. He came to deliver us from darkness and bring us into His glorious LIGHT.

Wherever you are this Christmas, whatever you are going through, I want you to know that God sees you. He loves you. He came for YOU. And there is HOPE. For He is our HOPE. And maybe I needed to hear that too.

Much Love. And Merry Christmas.

Close-up of a fluffy cream-colored dog
Family, Uncategorized

Redeeming Dante

blossomingheartsstudio

  We drove in nervous anticipation. ”Maybe she won’t be there, like the last time we had tried to meet up? Maybe he won’t fit our family? I don’t want my heart broken again like last time.” The thoughts rumbled through my head as I looked back our youngest daughter in the van. ”I hope this is going to work, but please be flexible if it doesn’t,” I muttered to her as we pulled into a parking space. 

  We all scampered into the building to meet our new member of the family. His head was nestled in a tight tuck against the plump arm of the older woman with stray white hairs sticking out from around her glasses. They were the only ones standing there, so I put on my pretend confidence and introduced us. 

  As we made all the proper exchanges, I kept repeating in my mind “He seems skittish. I don’t know what to do with a dog. What if we are all allergic to him, like the last one? Oh, what if he barks constantly?” 

  My husband’s hand landed in a comforting position on my shoulder with a “It’s going to be OK, hon” feeling. 

  ”His name is Dante. He’s a rescue dog, and came to us from a breeder. When their dogs aren’t perfect for selling, the unwanted ones come to us.” 

  ”Unwanted. A reject. Poor Baby.” I looked into his terrified eyes. 

  An uncomfortable flash of my best friend growing up, an Alaskan Malamute that my family had owned came across the screen of my mind. When I was ten, my poor baby had been poisoned by neighborhood kids. I just couldn’t bear to loose another dog. I remember vowing that I’d never open my heart to loving like that again. The pain would be too great. 

 A old friend just happened to be working at the pet store as a dog trainer, so she reassured me that all would be fine. My husband went to go get the car, while my youngest stayed behind with me holding the dog uncertainly. ”Here let me take him,” I said, and she quickly unloaded him haphazardly into my arms. 

  Dante’s entire body shook as his back feet pushed snuggly in the bend of my arm, so that when we went through sliding doors of the pet store to exit, he made his grand dash. With both legs he sprung like a wound up spring, shooting into the air. My saving grace was that I had twisted his leash several times on my wrist, just in case. Flashes of him jetting through the parking lot and getting hit by a car shot through my mind, as I instantly reached down to grab him back up again as he fought hard against the leash. 

  In his state of terror, he bit down on my fingers, drawing a small amount a blood and bruising my finger nail. Yet, he could have done far, far worse, and I knew that immediately. ”So, he at least is a gentle boy,” I mused. I managed to scoop him back up into my arms with us both shaking and ran back in the store, until I knew I could safely transport him across the lot to our awaiting car.

  When we got him home, he quickly scampered into our laundry room and sat huddled in a corner next to our dryer trembling, where he also would insistently bark at the beep of the dryer when it finished its cycle. Any hand motion towards him would send him running and cowering. He wouldn’t touch any food for the first week, and then slowly we began to coax him out little by little to where he would at least run and hide in his crate, which we covered with a blanket. Any time we held him for the next month, he shook violently. On walks, anytime anyone would pass, he would just sit down and shake, refusing to move. 

  Early one morning, my husband’s voice shouted from the open front for help. Dante had slipped off the collar and stood helpless in the middle of our front yard in the pitch dark. My husband and I crawled on the ground with him for an hour trying to gain a little of his trust. He was more afraid of the dark than he was of us, but he would not come anywhere near us for us to grab him. Finally, after a desperate prayer, I realized that his crate was the best option, because it was the only place he felt was safe. So, after corralling him towards the door opening, he finally ran in, and we locked the door behind him and toted him inside. 

  Dante was the name he had been given, but it didn’t seem to fit him. He just didn’t seem the Inferno, moody type. He was as gentle and frightened as a little lamb. He was about the size of a lamb too, with curly white hair. 

  Each day, we loved on him, held him, reassured him, fed him, tried to play with him, (though he didn’t really understand what play was), and our hearts wrapped tight around this little, shy guy.

  My middle daughter came home from college for Christmas break, and we still had not decided upon a name. After she spent a little time with him, she finally just looked at me and said, “Mom, he really reminds me of Noah, the lamb we helped take care of in 4H.” And surely, I had thought the same thing. ”Mom, his name has got to be Noah.” 

Noah means “rest”. 

  Over this past year, our little, rescue, trauma pup has become Noah, the dapper dude, a chill little ball of mini-poodle love. He did finally come out of the laundry room. He loves to eat all the scraps from the table instead of his dog food, loves to take walks and meet new friends, and even loves to play and get snuggles. He’s become a part of our family that we can’t live without. 

  Dante, the scared little trauma pup transformed into Noah the dog at rest, because he found a family that loved him.

  That’s kind of a recap of my year this past year. You see, I’ve been a lot like Noah was when he first came: very afraid, traumatized, waiting for the next bad thing to happen, huddled in a corner trembling many times. I’ve been through many years of Jesus loving me, calling me by a new name, and being gentle and kind to me. He put me in a loving family where I can learn to trust that He’s good. Yet, this year, more than ever He has shown me what it means to love someone or some puppy, and in my heart opening more than ever, I’ve found a resting place in the safety of His love and acceptance. I’ve found that I can let go of the trauma, of the past a little more, and I can be come into a place of peace, even though I still have more to process through. 

  In redeeming Dante, maybe there was redemption in that for me too. 

Dramatic portrait of a woman with her head tilted back and her mouth open
Family, Seasonal

Did He Cry?

blossomingheartsstudio

Did He cry? When He broke through the membrane of heaven’s womb into earth’s midnight, darkness… A single light burst into the thickest, darkest of dark.

When He gasped in His first breath of the putrid atmosphere, did the weight of mankind’s rebellion nearly crush His now fleshly heart? Did He cry when the sorrows, griefs, sufferings – our sufferings poured into his consciousness?

Did He cry for us?

”He was despised and rejected by men, A Man of sorrows and pain and acquainted with grief; And like One from whom men hide their faces He was despised, and we did not appreciate His worth or esteem Him.“
‭‭Isaiah‬ ‭53‬:‭3‬ ‭AMP‬‬

He is the King of Kings, yet He came to be the greatest servant of all! He is the Lion of the Tribe of Judah, yet He came as the perfect, sacrificial lamb. He came as a vulnerable, little child, who knew all of our human existence. All of it. The best of it. The worst of it.

Did He know? Did He know why He came and what He came to do? To bear our pain, and carry our sorrow. To one day, give the ultimate sacrifice, to lay down His life for us. To one day, wipe our tears away. To one day, bring justice and reconciliation. To restore all things.

Yes, the angels sang “Glory”, but did He cry for you, for me? Did He cry?

Hands fitting white puzzle pieces together
God encounters, Newsletter, prophecy, Uncategorized, Visions

When the Pieces Begin to Come Together

blossomingheartsstudio

One step leads to the next.  Just take the next step…
About ten minutes into a recent conversation with Wendy Manzo, prophetic artist, and author, my eyes welled up with good tears. (www.WendyManzo.com)

I realized in that moment the reason why God started me on this healing journey with art, probably 14 years ago…

Lying on my side in my bed, I was so tired of living that every breath became more shallow as it took everything in me to fill my lungs again.  As a sweet peace descended over me, I honestly thought I’d wake up in heaven in Jesus’s arms.  I had no energy left to fight the raging battles within my own mind, nor to raise the three precious babies peering at me over the side of the bed. 

Yet, God had other plans.  Within a week, a friend’s words prophesied over me that I was sinking in quick sand, and the more I fought to get out the deeper I sank, but Jesus would throw me a life line and pull me out.A few days later, I heard the words of my Savior say, “Pick up your paint brush and start painting your freedom.”

What I didn’t realize then was that when we partner with God in the creative process, it is spiritual warfare that breaks bondages off of us. It’s more than just a healthy way to process your emotions.  Creating is who God is.  Creator.  Abusers intentionally shut down the creative process for a reason.

I’ve lost count of how many people have told me that their abusers threw away their art supplies as a child and forbade them to create.  Yet, when engaging with God in the creative artistic process they come back to life.  Why?  Because creativity is a powerful, God-given force to bring life and to set people free.

I further believe out of my own experiences and out of others that the creative process in using our God-given imagination is a connection point between earth and heaven.  The part of the Lord’s Prayer where Jesus talks about “your kingdom come, your will be done on earth as it is in heaven”, is talking about manifesting the kingdom of heaven here on earth, and one way to do that is through the creative process, as we sense things of heaven and manifest an expression of that on earth.  As we do, we are yielding to the Holy Spirit in us, and allow Holy Spirit to work through us to release heaven here.  

Flash forward from the almost taking my last breath moment to about four years ago… I wake up from a dream about saving a woman and her child out of sex trafficking, to seeing a vision in my mind’s eye of me teaching art classes to survivors.  As I focused in on that vision, I heard a booming voice inside, “Teach others what I’ve taught you.”I had no idea of how to do this.  I had no examples to follow.  But I’ve just taken a baby step forward, then God says step here, and then step there, and then step over here, I’ve started to see the puzzle piece begin to fall into place.  

Somewhere along this journey, I’m finally coming to understand that one significant piece in my healing journey was the rope of the creative process in painting my freedom that helped pull me out of a pit of quicksand, and give me new hope for the future.  I began to heal.  And now so, I throw the rope out to others through classes, through the books, through the one on one talks.  And Jesus slips one more piece into the puzzle to wholeness.  Isn’t that wonderful!

This is what my story, my business is all about.  It’s way more than just learning to paint a picture.  It truly is healing hearts through arts.  

Won’t you join me on this journey?   Check out our sample class on the Encounter Class page on our website. I’d love to have you join us on this healing journey together.

Much Love,

Charismata
Purple and red balloons
Christian living, dreams, Family, God encounters, Visions

My Birthday Blog – The Gift of Today

blossomingheartsstudio

As I sit here to write this, I don’t fully grasp the hope I feel in my heart, an odd peace, an unshakable faith. This year has already held a few emergency runs to the ER with friends and extended family. Already held a few hands during some very challenging events. I’ve found myself grappling with some evil schemes on levels I didn’t want to believe were possible.

It’s only Feb. 1st. And it’s my birthday.

I’ve already been stretched beyond what I’ve felt capable of.

And yet, I’ve not felt forgotten or alone or helpless. I’ve felt held. Even now, I see Jesus smiling at me in my mind’s eye speaking hope that everything is going to be just fine. He doesn’t see things the way we do, does He?

In my processing of the past 53 years of being on this planet, I’ve asked many “whys” of the Lord. I’ve heard people tell me that that question is not a good question to ask the Almighty, and yet, I’ve never felt the Lord upset with me for doing so. And there have been times He has answered that. Most of the answers revolve around shifting my perspective to seeing things through His eyes, which is much different than mine.

I remember one such moment, when I asked Him about some current events that seemed so very overwhelming, and I saw Him walk up to me with the globe in His hand like a ball, with a cheesy smile on His face. He just communicated to me that He was in control. I was not. And that was OK. I could trust Him. He’s got this.

That’s difficult to see though when your one of best friends has just found her daughter unresponsive, and you are standing in an ER room holding tightly to her hand. It can be difficult to see when you are tenderly cupping the other hand of your spiritual papa who has been told he is now on hospice, while you pray for every moment of his life to be fulfilled. Or when you kiss your mama’s forehead and tell her I’ll see you soon, as she meets Jesus. Or when you are swimming in a sea of anger, because once again Jesus asks you to let Him into a new level of pain in your heart.

And yet, faith keeps rising – faith (trust) in a loving, compassionate, good God who keeps changing my perspective.

You know I once thought I’d never make it to 40 years old, and truly I’ve been almost taken out multiple times in these 50 some years. I’ve walked through some extremely hot fires, and traversed waters that I thought would surely wash me away, and yet, God’s unfailing love and goodness keep chasing me down. Ps. 23

I got up early this morning to go to breakfast with my family and a friend, just as the sun rose. You all know I love a beautiful sun rise. Jesus spoke to me a few months ago, that as one day is ending the next has already begun. What hope there is in that! A new day, a new horizon, a new hope has already begun even as the day is fading.

Recently, during a different hospital visit, someone I love who faced major surgery said “People tell me that I need to stop smoking. That it will kill me some day.” I wondered where the conversation was going. “But I say, every day is a gift, and I might as well live it up how I want too.”

Sadness pricked my heart, and I kindly responded, “You know, every day is a gift. But I rather live each day to bless and help someone else.” That statement is not to say how great I am. I am not all that. Yet, I just don’t want to live this life to make myself feel good, for my pleasure, and benefit. I mean I like all those things. But I want something more. I want my life to have a positive effect on this world around me. I want to shine light in the darkness.

I want to be there to hold my friend’s hand and stand in rock-solid faith with her as she faces the impossible, because we love the God of the I aM Possible. I want to be there to speak life to my friend who just got the death sentence and see that through the eyes of eternity. I want to spend time crying with the survivor who went through hell on earth, like I did, and then show who Jesus really is. I want to love my own kids well, and show them that life is worth living, and fighting for, and there is a bigger picture than just me, trying to gain things for myself. I want to love my husband every day, showing him value for who he is in my life.

You know, I have a feeling that there are going to be many more challenges to traverse in the coming seasons, and yet, I see and feel this faith and hope growing in a good, good God who loves us unconditionally, who is not surprised by what happens, but instead, He holds the playbook, and I can trust Him.

I can lean back into His great love, and just BE, because I know He’s got this! And that is my birthday wish for you too. Lean back into His great love for you, and live each day as a gift to be used to bring some light to this dark, dark world. Love you all so much friends!

A tall waterfall in a green forest
Christian living, Family, God encounters, prophecy, Uncategorized, Visions

Designed with Purpose

blossomingheartsstudio

The first section of this blog is the second part of the word I felt the Lord gave me at the beginning of December. (There are several parts to it, which I believe the Lord will have me release at different times.)

The words are as I heard them in quotation marks, because I want to honor God’s voice as I perceive it, and don’t want to add my own interpretation to it. Following that though, I do feel prompted to flesh it out a little. Obviously, I am human, and I may be off, and this is not the canonized scripture, but I believe it carries the heart of the scripture. I also look for outside confirmation of words, and it was immediately confirmed. This is as I heard it.

“You are truly at the brink of the greatest outpouring this world has ever seen of. My glory.  My Holy Spirit is being poured out with out measure in this last time.  There will a great wave, a great influx of soul.  Like the waves of the oceans, they will be swept into the kingdom.”

“This generation, this generation that has had identity theft coming against them, this generation though they have been turned over to the enemy for a season, this generation will be the ones to rise up and throw that Jezebel lying spirit off the balcony.  Eunuchs did it in my Word, and again those who have lost their sexual identity, these very ones will run to the Lamb of God, be forgiven of their trespasses and rebellion, they shall know their true identity in Christ, and they will cast off the Jezebel that has sought to steal their identity to cut off their generations.  That pride flag will be torn down, and a spirit of humility will sweep this nation.”

This generation has certainly had identity theft committed against them, and many, many have bought it hook, line, and sinker. I truly believe as this generation of young people have the blinders pulled off their eyes, and they begin to see that they were deceived by agendas that have sought to steal, kill, and destroy them – not just their sense of self (of their individual identity), but also to cut off their generations (families from being formed and babies from being born) – that they will rise up and throw off that lying spirit as the Eunuchs did to Jezebel in 2 King’s 9:33.

What do I mean by identity theft?

In 2022, a suspension bridge in India that had been designed and built during the British rule many decades before collapsed with 100’s of people plummeting into the river below killing over a 100 of them. The bridge had been structurally sound when built, but in recent times fallen into disrepair. Engineers had shut down the structure to repair the damage, but they did so in a hurry, and with no regard to things like weight limits. After a short few months, the bridge was reopened right before a festival. As hundreds crowded the bridge, the cables began to give way under the weight crashing into the water below.

Much like this bridge, God has an original design that works, and it has worked and will work for eternity. His original design is family – a man and a woman in covenant procreating children. Over time, mankind has damaged that structure, creating pain and hurt from broken covenants, abusive behavior, etc.. This has caused the need for repair. Instead of going back to the original design and restoring the bridge to what the original intent was, we have tried to in our own rebellion against God, or even with the belief that God no longer exits, made the bridge the way we wanted or to different standards, even changing the look of the bridge entirely, and as a result it doesn’t hold weight. It will eventually collapse, because the structure is not sound.

What does Jezebel have to do with it? I really don’t like throwing around the Jezebel spirit word, but Jezebel. as the person in the scriptures, was a cruel, manipulative, controlling ruler. The spirit of this age many times has those controlling and manipulative attributes. In scripture, Jezebel even intimidated the prophet Elijah who had called fire down from heaven, causing him to run, questioning his call and identity. That spirit always cause identity theft. Isn’t that the same thing happening today? People questioning their identity, their calling, floundering around not knowing who they are, why they are here, and what they are to do with their lives.

Some would look at God – the great three in one – and say well, where is the design of family in God? Yet the Trinity is actually the perfect picture of what family is supposed to look like. This may rock your thoughts a bit, but study this out for yourself. God is family. He didn’t procreate the Son. He was always already present in the Godhead, but consider this. God is three in one – God, the Father; God, the Son (Jesus); and God, the Holy Spirit (mother). Now, wait a minute. God is not female? Right?

In the Old Testament, the Hebrew pronoun for the Holy Spirit is in a feminine form, meaning the Jewish culture attribute the female qualities to the Holy Spirit. Some qualities listed about the Holy Spirit are comforter, helper, friend, wind, the dove, peace-giver, the one who hovers, gives life, and creates. Sounds like a mother to me? In Genesis, the word says that God created man and woman in His image, which is a male and female image. The Trinity represents the purest form of the perfect family structure.

I understand that some may read this and say that I’m not educated or that I’m judging people. The fact is I have several people who I love dearly who have lived alternative lifestyles. I have seen the short and long-term fruit of those who have accepted the changes in original design. In fact, I recently asked an honest question to a precious friend who had been in an alternative lifestyle for decades. My question was in all these years, have you known anyone in your circles that have had good, long lasting fruit, meaning long term peace, love, joy, happiness from it? She thought and thought. Her answer was “No. Everyone I know is still searching to fill that hole in their heart. Everyone I know is dealing with depression, suicide, drugs, alcohol, etc., and are searching for peace.”

To the opposite, I also have seen that as people have received the true love and truth about who God has created them to be as a daughter of God, that their sexual identity automatically begins to changed intended for it to be. The way they think and feel begins to change, and their lives begin to bear good, long lasting fruit, like joy, peace, love. Depression, anxiety, suicide fall away, as they live in who God created them to be. Sexual identity is almost a by-product, as they grasp their calling as a son or daughter of the living God.

I too have gone through some of those changes, because having been raised in a extremely sexually abusive environment, being female for many years did not felt safe to me. So I believed that it was safer to carry extra weight, and to dress down. This is super common among abuse survivors. Yet, as I realize more and more who God has created me to be and that I’m safe being a female, I feel more comfortable in my own skin. I desire to wear make-up and look pretty.

I don’t come from a stand point here of pointing my finger. My heart is full of compassion for the people standing on the broken bridge. In fact, a person who identified as A-sexual recently asked me why did I think I had authority to speak into this topic. My answer was pretty simple. I do understand many of the thought processes that lead to those beliefs, and I have compassion on those who don’t understand who God has created them to be, because I’m still growing in that myself. I know how strong lies,and hurts can be driven into a heart. But I know the healer of the broken heart, and I’ve seen how He can change lives around, and give people a whole new identity in Him.

I firmly believe that God created us – all of us with design – a design that was actually made after His image. Gen. 5:2, Mark 10:6 Obviously, mankind has screw that up through many things – drugs, genetic manipulation, rebellion against the original design, etc.. And sometimes, there is not a pat, easy answer to the screw ups. Mankind has sought to reinvent the bridge. It has since the beginning. Pride resulting in rebellious fists against the creator has led to many falling to their death off a broken bridge that can’t hold weight.

Yet, this is why Jesus came. He came to make a way for us to be back in a family. A real family. A way to be back in fellowship and relationship with the perfect Father, Mother, and Big Brother. And when we find our place in that family, He will show us who He has really created us to be.

I believe in this generation those blinders will come off, and this generation will be able to see truth, and they will throw off the lies and the agenda that has sought to destroy them and their generations. That will happen as they come to know the real Jesus, who loves them and cares for them like no other, and who has made the way for them to be apart of His family.

Part of this great move of God I believe will come from just this – thousands and thousands realizing their true identity in Jesus, throwing off their pride flag, and humbling themselves before God, receiving true love, so perfect that it casts out the fear and manipulation and the lies. I’ve seen it with a few. Many more are going to follow. God will raise them up, just as He did those Eunuchs, and they will overthrow the very system that has held them captive.

 

A person gently cradling a baby wrapped in a cream knit blanket
Christian living, Family, God encounters, Seasonal

Embrace the Baby

blossomingheartsstudio

Playfully, a new friend of mine changed her voice as she mimicked the tones of the shepherds, the wise men, Mary, Joseph, Baby Jesus, and even the sheep as she individually held the pieces of our antique manger sitting on our coffee table. We belly laughed as she retold the story through cracked, chipped characters tip tapping the glass top through the hay straw.

Joseph and Mary stood staring at the holy infant keeping their distance with their hands crossed over their chest in a stiff, lifeless stance as Baby Jesus lay still in the most holy, untouchable way safely tucked a few feet away.

“Oh, Look at the Son of God laying there. He is so holy,” said Joseph in her deep, husky man’s voice.

“Yes, Joseph. Isn’t Jesus so perfect?! Don’t touch Him,” Mary sighed in my friend’s best squeaky high voice, “Just look at Him.”

The shepherds and sheep stood at a distance. “Such a wondrous sight. The savior of the world. The angels just told us about it. But we will stand over here so as not to disturb Him.”

The sheep said, “Bahh!” in return. We laughed again.

As the giggles died down, I turned to face my friend and said, “But isn’t this how most people really treat Jesus, and the whole Christmas story? Isn’t this how most religious institutions have portrayed the Messiah? Someone to be seen from a distance – holy, perfect, untouchable. Seen, but not touched.”

She sighed, “Yes, babies are meant to be cuddled, embraced, held close to your heart. They melt the hard things inside us when we do.”

And it’s the same with Jesus. He wants you to hold Him close to your heart, to let Him into the deep places inside of you, to allow His love to melt the hard.

Yet, to do so, we must embrace Him. We must open our hearts to receive His love, trusting Him that His love will be safe.

We can stay at a distance admiring His holiness, and perfectness, making Him untouchable. He won’t force us to come close, but if we refuse to, we will never truly know Him, never truly know His love.

Love is not sterile. It’s not distant. It is so intimate, so close, so vulnerable – kind of like holding a newborn in your arms – close to your breast, against your heart. So, close you hear each others heartbeat. This is the way Jesus is meant to be embraced. One with you. One with Him.

And His love will heal you. It will embrace you back. It will soothe, and melt your heart, giving you a new heart. His love will accept you, and show you who He has created you to be all along, from the beginning of time. His love will set you free.

Will you draw close to Jesus this Christmas?

Take a step closer to the risen Savior. He is not in the manger any more. He is alive. He came to give His life for you, because He loves you.

Love compels us to pick up the baby in the manger, to embrace the baby close to your heart and let Him melt all the hard places away.

He loves you so very much!

Merry Christmas!

Person wearing bright orange knitted socks
Christian living, Family, Seasonal, Uncategorized

Socks for Jesus

blossomingheartsstudio

A repost of my favorite Christmas story

By: Carolyn Charismata Weaver

“Blue light special on aisle nine.  Children’s shoes for ten dollars,” boomed the man’s voice over the speaker.  Shoppers turned their buggies eagerly towards the ominous blue light spinning around and around illuminating the narrow aisle.

Sarah, my three year-old, and I continued our Christmas shopping for her daddy and baby sister ignoring the people pushing by. 

Passing the Christmas trees decked in colored lights, we slowed down, as she declared, “Pretty Mama!”  Then she clapped her hands to “Frosty, the Snowman”, as I pressed the red nose of the famous character for the second time.  The toy’s hips swung back and forth in rhythm.  Commercial Christmas in all its glory shone before us.

“Need to get moving,” I muttered to myself. 

Turning my attention back to the duty at hand, I asked, “What do you want to get daddy for Christmas?”

With an inquisitive expression, Sarah tilted her head to the side.  “But mommy, it’s baby Jesus’s birthday.  What we get Jesus for Christmas?”

“Hmm.  You are right,” I said, “What do you want to get Jesus for His birthday?”

She paused for a moment.  “Socks,” she said, “Socks, Mama.” 

Puzzled, I said, “Why socks?”

“To keep His feet warm.  They must be cold in the stable.” 

“Of course.  You are right,” I said.  “Off to find warm socks then.” 

With all other gifts forgotten, we strolled to the sock aisle.  “How about these, sweetheart?”  I held up some multi-colored socks for her to see, but she had already spotted the ones she wanted. 

Pointing, she said, “No, Mama.  Those over there.” I brought the brightly colored, fuzzy socks closer for her to see, as she was firmly strapped in the buggy. 

“Yes, those.” 

Handing them to her, she held them tightly as we finished our shopping.

Later that evening, she helped me carefully wrap the precious gift in a small box with bright green paper and a red bow on top.  “To Jesus.  Love, Sarah” the tag read.

“Hon.  What do we do now?”  I turned to my husband for advice, after we tucked Sarah into bed. “If we have a birthday party for Jesus, and He doesn’t show up, then what?” 

Suddenly, a light bulb went off in my head, “I know.” 

“What?” my husband said.

“We will find one of those live nativities and let her leave her present there.”

Surfing the internet, we frantically searched to find one in our area.  Sure enough, God provided:7:00 p.m., that coming Saturday night. 

A couple of days later, I bundled the girls up in their matching red, wool coats their grandmother had purchased for them, pulled hats over their ears, and placed gloves on their fingers.  After buckling them into their car seats and handing Sarah the precious treasure, we were off to wish baby Jesus a very Happy Birthday.

Her sister snuggled close to my chest in the baby carrier, while Sarah held tightly to her daddy’s hand with one and proudly to the gift with the other. My sister and five year-old nephew met us there to join the celebration.

Abruptly, Roman soldiers stopped us at the theatrical entrance to Bethlehem,  “Why have you come to the city tonight? “ they grunted. 

Innocently, Sarah peered up in their harsh faces, “To bring baby Jesus a present,” but daddy quickly added, as he cleared his throat, “To pay our taxes, of course.” 

The guards snickered to themselves, as they said, “Welcome to Bethlehem then.”

Shuffling by quickly, we paid our pretend taxes at the next booth, and then made our way through the city in search of the baby. 

Past booth after booth we walked, each selling spices, hand-woven cloths, whittled wooden toys, or other treasures. The smells of fresh bread dipped in olive oil, sweet dates, and sheep filled the air.  Daddy took the gift from Sarah and tucked it under his arm, as Sarah and her cousin explored the wonderful treats.

“Look, Mama.  The shepherds!”  Sarah exclaimed. 

Sure enough the shepherds stood in the field watching over their sheep by night.  Suddenly, music began to play, while behind the shepherds, spotlights lit up the sky.  A man dressed in a white robe with golden, make-shift angel wings attached to his back appeared, declaring the good news that Emmanuel was born that night. Sarah jumped up and down clapping her hands with joy, while her cousin chased a stray sheep.

“But where is baby Jesus?”  Sarah asked, turning to me.

“I don’t know, sweetie.  But maybe we should try to find the innkeeper.  He would know,” I said.

Behind us at the gate, the wise men filed in with camel in tow.  “Maybe we should follow them to find where baby Jesus is,” daddy wisely added.

“There’s no room in the inn,” a man dressed in a cape and sash said, as he halted us from following. 

“But I have a present for baby Jesus,” Sarah said, as she cautiously pushed it forward for the man to see. 

“Hmm,” the man replied, “You have heard about the baby, who is said to be the new king.  We must keep this quiet from the Romans for they would seek to kill a King of the Jews.”  He bent down almost whispering in Sarah’s ear.  “Come then, little one.  Come see Baby Jesus.”  Sarah’s eyes lit up as he allowed us to pass through his door.  “Go out through the back, to the stables.”

The wise men were just kneeling, presenting their gifts to a young mother cradling a baby in her arms.  Joseph stood watchfully to the side. Illuminating the perfect scene, a shaft of light beamed into the heavens behind them.

“Oh, Mama.  We found Him,” Sarah whispered. 

My eyes brimmed with tears.  “Go ahead, Sarah. Go to baby Jesus, and give Him the birthday present.” 

Timidly, she approached, gently placing the gift at Mary’s feet next to the gold, frankincense, and myrrh. 

At that moment, her cousin overcome with the desire to also bring a gift, began to sing, “Happy birthday, Jesus.  I’m so glad it’s Christmas.  All the tinsel and lights, and the presents are nice, but the real gift is you.”  He spread his arms wide open for dramatic effect. In turn, we all joined in.

Mary’s eyes filled with tears, as Joseph smiled. “Thank you, precious ones,” she said, “Thank you for these beautiful gifts.”

Sarah ran back to our arms.  “Do you think He’ll like it?”

“Oh Sarah, Jesus will love it, for He loves you,” I said.  We snuggled together, as her daddy leaned over kissing her on the forehead. 

“Time to go,” daddy said, but as we solemnly walked away, I glanced back to etch the image in my memory. 

For years, we made the same trek to find Baby Jesus, but as the children got older, new traditions replaced the old. But I will never forget that first holy night when heaven kissed earth, and the song of joy broke through our darkness.

Ruins of an old stone abbey on green grass under a gray sky
Christian living, dreams, Family, God encounters, prophecy, Uncategorized, Visions

A New Hope Rising

blossomingheartsstudio

This post gently touches on themes of grief and the loss of a parent. Take your time, and be kind to yourself as you read.

Recently, I was at a funeral – my mom’s funeral.  As the lid of the casket closed, two of our former pastors solemnly walked through the doors to greet my sister, who they had come for.  I meandered across the room shaking hands, and receiving thoughtful glances as I made my way to greet my old friends.  Unknown bridges had been burned in the past, but we had not been the ones to light the fires to them.  Once torched, we had sought several times to rebuild, to reconcile, but to no avail.  

It had been almost a decade since we last met.  As I approached them yet again with a welcoming hug and a greeting of genuine, “It so good to see you,” it felt like I had just hugged an icicle – hard, cold, unresponsive.  Not a word was returned. 

Later, I wrestled with all my ball of knotted up gut responses in the presence of a trusted friend.  With many tears, I talked to Jesus and encountered His presence.

I sought reconciliation still with these pastors.  “Jesus, maybe if I just write one more letter.  Maybe if I just trying explain one more time where our hearts were, why we left when did, etc., etc.?”

There are only a handful of times that I have seen Jesus truly angry, like turn over the tables in the temple angry.  Honestly, in scripture, the only time I read about Him that angry is when He encountered the religious leaders of His day.  He never seemed to be mad at the prostitutes, or the sick, or the demon-possessed, or the dishonest tax collectors, or even the Roman dictators.  But with the religious leaders He commonly said some scathing comments about them.  “White-washed tombs filled with dead men’s bone” would probably qualify as some of those type of comments.  

So, I found myself begging for reconciliation with these former pastors to Jesus, who seemed really, really angry.  The answer I got was well, not what I expected, but it went way broader than these pastors really fast.  In fact, this message is not really about these individuals at all, but they seemed to be representing church leadership in general.

He has repeated this message over the course of the past month and a half, different ways, but over and over again to me.  Even this morning, the directive has been to write this down, and share it.  There is no desire on my part to throw these particular people under the bus.  The reason I mention them at all is for context. For whatever reason, His answer to me was a firm “No,” to seeking further reconciliation.  It was more like “It’s time for me to intervene.”  

Please understand.  I’m not saying any of this as a judgment statement against all churches.  In fact, in this engagement with the Lord, I kept feeling like I needed to ask forgiveness because I got them in trouble, which was silly.  I hadn’t done anything to cause them pain, though evidently they had thought so.  I also quickly realized Jesus’s words were not just directed towards them, but the American Church in general.  Also, my family and I do meet in the corporate environment with other believers, and it is wonderful.  The following is not meant to be a blanket judgment across the American Church from me.  I have a healthy respect for the scripture that says, “Don’t judge, lest you be judged.”  I know I miss the mark all the time, so this is just a reiterating of what I have heard that He has been saying this past month, and feel now is the time to share it.  

In my mind’s eye, I saw the tip of an huge iceberg floating in the sea, and then the finger of God came and tapped the tip, flipping the entire iceberg upside down, so that huge, immense bottom was now above water and was visible for the world to see.  Then, I heard these words.

“Those who have represented my church, who have represented me, in their pride, in their arrogance, who have offered fake fire, and a puny god, who made my kingdom their kingdom, who have made their name great instead of my name, their day of judgment has come.  Only the tip of the iceberg has been shown, but I am tipping the iceberg upside down, and the world will see the giant iceberg underneath.  It must be done, or the American’s destiny will not be fulfilled.” 

“The shaking in the four walls has only begun.” 

“Exposure.  Exposure.  Exposure.”

“You have called for the judgment on the broken in this nation, you have turned your eyes away from the needy, the bleeding.  In fact, you have been disgusted by the little, hurt lambs, while instead you have fed the wolves.” 

“Enough is enough.  The tables are turning.  The tables are turning.  I will cleanse my house of this witchcraft, of this wickedness.”  

“They have misrepresented my heart.  They have caused the little ones to stumble .  The children cried for a rope to pull them out of the pits, and instead they have offered them a noose.  They have brought judgment on themselves.”  

“Don’t look to the four walls anymore.  Don’t try to be like the old structure at all.  Yes, there is some good still there. Yes. I am still using organized churches, but a shift is coming and is already here.” 

“Millions have been driven out of buildings, out of the man’s kingdom structures, and into their homes.  I am and will pour my spirit out in the homes, businesses, in the street. The enemy won’t contain my spirit behind four walls anymore.”  

“On the contrary, my ecklessia will return to her roots,  house to house, home to home, family to family, heart to heart.  I will build my true ecklessia.  Not with bricks, but with living stones, with me only as their chief corner stone.”

Yesterday, I sat in a movie theatre with tears streaming down my cheeks.  In front of me on the big screen was a church that had been partly destroyed by the Civil War.  The bell tower had been damaged with the bell itself now covered in ashes laying on the floor in the center of the shell shocked nave.  “Mama always said that the bell of the church is the voice of the church which rings out hope, but look the church has lost her voice,” said the character in the movie as he looked at the structure.  (Paraphrased)

The stark scene reflected the feelings in my heart.  “The church has lost her voice,” I repeated in my head.  And yet as the movie continued, the scenes changed to later showing the same fallen bell, covered in ashes and snow.  As the wind blew across it the words “ New Hope” appeared.  

There is no power in a church building unless the Holy Spirit resides there.  The traditional church were my mom’s funeral had been held was as empty and cold as my former friend’s hug had been.  

How many lost souls have found only condemnation, a list of do’s and don’t’s, a bar too high to jump, a noose to hang themselves on; instead of a rope to be pulled out the dark pit they have fallen into, and a gospel that is empty of good news.  

Our Hope has been, is now, and will always be found in Christ alone.  “He did not come into the world to condemn the world, but to save it.”  

In this season of civil war, A New Hope is and will rise out of the ashes of the destruction of former institutions we called church.  It will be the true Bride of Christ, the true Church, the true Body of Christ arising with the real Jesus as our leader, our lover, our Bridegroom King.  He’s not done with the American Church, but He must clean house, and rebuild His true church to restore Her voice.  Only He can do this.  It may not look like we think it will, but He can and will have His Bride, His Church.  

God truly loves you.  He relentlessly is chasing after the rejected ones, the ones who have been judged, ridiculed, and left on the road side to die.  He came to seek and save those that are lost.  

A great harvest is coming, but they will come because they have met the real, true Jesus who loves them with a love, so pure, so strong, so compelling.  Our New Hope is found in the true Jesus alone.  

Ironically, when I was a child, my mom used to sing this little song about a bell ringing. “If I had a bell, I’d ring it in the morning. I’d ring it in the evening all over this land. I’d ring out justice. I’d ring out freedom. I’d ring out a love between my brothers and my sisters all over this land.” (paraphrased)

Let the bells ring out Hope again!

The movie referenced is “I Heard the Bell” by Sight and Sound Theatre 2022, and the song is “If I Had a Hammer” lyrics © T.R.O. Inc., Tratore/ Songwriters: Lee Hays / Pete Seeger.